Mercury
by sslgg2000
Summary: MerDer aftermath
1. Trapped inside a month of grey

As the clear droplets of moisture hit the the window pane and slide down the glass in zig-zagging patterns, Meredith Grey picks up the engraved ball point pen from the desk that used to belong to her mother, and draws a perfectly straight blue line across the square on the calendar marked November 30th. She sighs. Thirty days of non-stop rain. She wonders if she will ever see the sun again.  
The alarm clock on the bedside table sounds with an annoying buzz, filling the room with what should be Meredith's wake-up call. She doesn't know why she bothers setting that thing to begin with. At least in the last month, anyway. Somehow, she always manages to wake up well before it is time, which unsettles her a bit because the sun is never out when her eyes open of their own accord.  
Rising from the squeaky chair that matches the mahogany desk, she crosses the room and turns the alarm clock off with a firm press of her pointer finger. The room goes silent once again, except for the tapping of the rain against the window. She turns her head toward the sound, her eyes picking up the slight reflection of herself in the window. The street lamp on the corner illuminates part of the street and reflects against the moisture on the glass. The sky is still dark, but dawn is near. She will be tired later, but for now, she is wide awake, the wheels in her mind turning and turning without fail. Trying to go back to sleep would just be a waste of her time. Without hesitation, she leaves the quiet bedroom and enters the adjoining bathroom to shower and get dressed for the day.  
Steam rises and fogs the bathroom mirror. After undressing and tossing her pajamas into the laundry basket in the bathroom closet, Meredith steps over the side of the tub and into the spray of the hot water. She turns around, letting the water cascade over the tight, tired muscles of her back and shoulders. Her body aches like she has taken part in a triathalon, but it is just stress and working long hours that has caused her muscles to bunch and tighten underneath her skin. The water beats down, reddening her skin and loosening the strained muscles and tendons. It is like a drink of water after a hike in the desert.  
Closing her eyes, Meredith welcomes the way the water slides smoothly over her body. Before the water can turn cold on her, she faces forward again and goes through the motions of cleansing herself. She wonders, as the water and soap mix and slide down the drain, if everything she's been feeling inside will wash away with it and disappear. It isn't until she turns the water off and steps out of the shower that the cold air, and reality, hits her all at once, and she realizes that her thoughts have been nothing but wishful thinking.  
By the time she gets dressed and arrives at the hospital, the sky is just starting to lighten. Well, if a dismal cloudy gray can be considered 'light'. The rain is still falling, but it is only a drizzle now. She makes no move to sheild herself from the rain. She even leaves her umbrella lying haphazardly against the back seat of her jeep. As she walks toward the entrance of the hospital, her hair and clothes get damp, and her shoes are soaked because she walks straight through the rain puddles without daring to care. It doesn't matter anyway, because all she can feel is numb as the outside world continues to move and function all around her.  
Once she is inside, the cold air meets the moisture on her skin, hair, and clothes, and she shivers. Her purse strap is sliding down her arm, but she doesn't move to adjust it, because moving would cause the material of her clothes to brush against her skin and she knows that it would feel like rubbing ice upon her already freezing skin. She flinches when she has to reach out and press the button to signal for the elevator because the hem of her coat slides against her wrist and it truly is like an ice cube against the goosebumps already present.  
Once the elevator arrives on the fourth floor, Meredith is through the sliding doors like a bullet from a gun. Her teeth are nearly chattering and she's really rethinking the umbrella in the car thing, so when she enters the resident locker room it is a race to peel off her wet clothes and get into some dry scrubs. Luckily, she also has dry tennis shoes in her locker. Once she ties the laces on her shoes, she slides her lab coat on and she is instantly warm and comforted. She pulls her damp hair back into a low ponytail and fills her pockets with pens a granola bar for later, as well as her blackberry, before clipping her pager to the waistband of her scrub bottoms. With one more glance in the mirror to apply a light coat of lip gloss, she shuts her locker door. The metal shakes against the frame and echos in the vacant room, but she pays it no mind as she exits.  
"Coffee?"  
His voice makes her pause mid-stride. She turns slowly to see him just outside the locker room door. He is smiling and holding a Styrofoam cup in each hand. Steam rises out of the small openings of the lids and curls in the air in front of him. He extends an arm, offering up one of the cups and she stares at him as if accepting it is a life altering decision. The wary look in her eyes doesn't go unnoticed by him, but he chooses to ignore it just the same as he pulls himself away from the wall and takes a step forward. Her eyes widen.  
"You're here early." She comments. Her eyes leave the cup for a moment to lock with his humored expression.  
"I could say the same about you." He replies, eyeing her knowingly.  
"I couldn't sleep." She says quickly, as if she is defending her presence.  
He shrugs slightly. "I never left. I had an emergency craniotomy and there were complications."  
"I'm sorry," she apologizes. Her slightly panicked expression softens at his admission because it makes her feel better knowing that he hasn't arrived so early just to have coffee with her. That kind of gesture would be overly considerate and it would only serve to make her feel guilty about the unspoken distance she is putting between them.  
"Meredith." Her name rolls of his tongue like butter. He extends his arm out further, reminding her about the coffee he is presenting.  
"Derek." She states his name and swallows as though her throat hurts.  
He sighs and tilts his head. "It's only coffee."  
Her eyes shift again to the cup in his hand. After a few seconds that feel more like eternities, she nods slightly and reaches out. Her fingertips brush his as she takes the coffee from him and they both fight the tingles that course through their veins at the mild contact. Derek smiles and the tightening in his chest fades a bit at the tiny smile that now graces her lips.  
It isn't much, but it's something. And he'll take whatever she is willing to give him at the moment.


	2. Being fine

The morning has passed by fairly quickly. The coffee, coupled with the adrenaline rush stemming from a massive trauma in the ER, had fueled Meredith to keep going at a high rate of speed. But, now that the codes and the surgeries are over, fatigue has finally set in. She can feel the tiredness seeping into her skin and latching onto her bones. She wants nothing more than to go home and collapse into her bed, but she knows that is not an option. She still has 8 more hours left of her 16 hour shift.

She sets off to find an on-call room to at least catch a 15 or 30 minute nap. Her arms hang limp at her sides like dead weight, and her tennis shoes squeak against the freshly mopped hallway as she shuffles along her way. The last door on the right beckons to her and she is glad to find the room empty when she flips the light switch. As soon as she closes the door, she sighs contently and kicks off her shoes. Her lab coat is discarded and placed over the back of the chair in the corner, and then she is removing her pager from her waistband. She tosses the tiny black device onto the seat of the chair, flips the light switch, and nearly lunges for the bed. By the time she pulls the covers up to her chin and lets her head hit the pillow with a soft thud, her eyes close and the darkness surrounds her. It doesn't take more than five minutes before she is fast asleep.

And then the dreaming starts...

"He's gone. He's gone again!" She screams as tears fill her eyes and drip down her flushed cheeks.

Meredith looks on with a frightened expression, her eyes wide and worried. She feels helpless, because there is really nothing she can do but comfort her. Only, Meredith doesn't really know how to do that. "Mom, he's not... he's not gone. This happened a very long time ago. It isn't happening now."

Trying to reason with Ellis Grey on a normal day is hard enough. It's even more difficult on days like today, when mentally she is somewhere else, and her reality is much different from that of the present time. As she paces, she wrings her hands over and over each other until her skin is bright pink. Her eyes are frantic and she never breaks her stride as she moves from one end of the room to the other.

Meredith stands in the middle of the room watching, her arms folded so that she is hugging herself. She wants to reach out and stop her mother's repetitive strides, but she is afraid to touch her. Ellis has never been a very affectionate person, and Meredith isn't about to start trying to make her one now, so she grips both sides of her shirt in her hands and tries her hardest not to console her.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Her mother spats harshly, causing Meredith to flinch and take a step back. The venom in her voice in thick. Ellis has bypassed upset and is now coasting along the angry freeway. Meredith hates when her mother gets like this.

"Maybe if you could just... stop pacing and calm down, you could think more rationally about-"

"Rationally?" Her mother interrupts, turning sharply to glare at her. At least she got her to stop pacing. "I am thinking rationally!" She argues, her lips pressed into a thin line. "He... he is the one who isn't thinking so clearly! How could he do this? How could he leave me alone with a child to raise? She's only five! And she's not the easiest child to deal with. She's always meddling, getting in the way when I have work to do. What am I supposed to do? Bring her with me to the hospital? Strap her to a chair in the operating room? She'll want to touch everything!"

"You hired a nanny." Meredith speaks quietly, her eyes downcast to the floor.

"What?" Ellis' tone is softer now, confused. Meredith looks up to see that her expression has crumpled, like she's trying to put the pieces together, but she just can't seem to make them fit right.

"When dad left, you hired a nanny so that someone would be at home while you were at the hospital." Meredith tells her. "Hellen. Her name was Hellen."

Ellis' shoulders drop like she's lost the fight that was once inside of her. "Hellen." She repeats the name absentmindedly, her eyes looking out into the distance like she's trying to picture a face in her mind to match the name. She obviously can't come up with anything because she shakes her head and gives up. When she turns her head to face Meredith again, her eyes look different and that signifies to Meredith that something has changed and her mother is already gone from the moment and her mind has already taken her to another place in time. Where that is, however, is anyone's guess.

"Mom?" She asks tentatively, "Would you like to sit down? It's late. You must be awfully tired."

"Meredith?" Ellis' face shifts again and tears well in her eyes once more. "Is that really you? Look at you. You're all grown up."

Meredith nods silently as her mother steps forward. The vice grip on her shirt loosens as her hands release the material. Her arms drop to her sides. Ellis reaches out like she's going to embrace her, but before she can get close enough, a loud beeping fills the air. Meredith moves fast, but it is not fast enough. Before her hands can close around the pager at her waist, the loud sound has already startled her mother, and her eyes are wide with panic, her mind shifting again to some other far off place.

"You have to leave! You can't be here! I need to be in surgery right now, Meredith! They are paging me and you are just in my way! Leave! Now!"

"Mom." Meredith tries to speak calmly, but the look in Ellis' eyes and the condescending tone in her voice brings up too many past emotions, and she struggles to remind even herself that her mother is not living in the present.

Ellis just keeps yelling, over and over again. Meredith keeps repeating the word 'mom' as calmly as she can.

All the while the beeping of her pager keeps sounding, adding to the chaos and confusion.

Meredith wakes up in a cold sweat. Her breathing is erratic and she looks down to see her chest rising and falling rapidly in the dim light of the on-call room. There is a constant sound in the room and it takes a few seconds for her mind to process the fact that the noise is actually the beeping of her pager that sits discarded on the seat of the chair in the corner. Groaning, and still half asleep, she shoves the covers away from her body and fumbles out of the bed, nearly tripping over her shoes in the process.

After retrieving her pager, she plops down into the chair and squints at the bright, blinking display of words that she is somehow supposed to comprehend in her foggy, half-sleep induced state. It takes her brain another few seconds to focus on the words and she realises that she is needed in room 4136. One of her surgical patients from this morning has taken a turn for the worse and her intern doesn't know what to do.

The details of the dream she's just had floats around in her mind and she tries desperately to push those thoughts away. Now is not the time to feel helpless or sad, or even angry. She is at work. She has a job to do. And reliving those moments with her mother is not going to do her any good. She wishes she didn't dream about them, but over the past month, once her eyes shut and she begins to drift, it is like she has lost all control over that part of her brain that represses these certain memories.

When she is finally dressed and her hair is pulled back into a fresh ponytail, she leaves the on-call room and hurries down the hallway. When she reaches room 4136, Cristina is already there, her face grim as she looks down at the watch on her wrist. In a clear, but sorrowful voice, she states, "Time of death, 2:23 p.m."

Meredith stands dumbfounded in the doorway. "What?" She asks disbelievingly. "What happened?"

Cristina looks up. "There was a clot, Meredith. A huge one. I had to open him bedside. We tried everything, but he lost way too much blood... way too fast."

It is then that Meredith's eyes travel to the bed where her dead patient lies, the surgical scar that ran the length of his stomach now open and exposed for the world to see. Her heart sinks as his wife's face flashes in her mind.

"We were on our way to the grocery store. The car came out of nowhere. He was driving and... oh, God! He'll survive, right? People have internal injuries and pull through all the time, right?" She sobs, tears falling rapidly down her high cheeks bones. There is a thin line of dried blood than runs along the side of her face, and she is holding her purse in front of her so tightly that her knuckles are white.

"We'll do everything we can, Mrs. Stone." Meredith tells her with the calm, even tone that she has perfected for all of her patient's distraught family members. "I'll have one of the interns update you as soon as I can."

She turns around and heads toward the scrub room, the metal doors closing solidly behind her, shutting out Mrs. Stone and the rest of the world.

"Do you want me to...?" Cristina trails off, pulling Meredith from her thoughts as she gestures toward Mr. Stone.

Meredith shakes her head. "No. No, I'll do it," She says, already moving to the other side of the bed. As she puts on a pair of latex gloves, she orders one of the interns to bring her a suture kit. When everything is in place, she begins to stitch Mr. Stone's wound closed. She will prepare him as best as she can, and then she will leave to find Mrs. Stone to tell her that her husband is dead.

Everyone else files out of the room. Cristina lingers a bit, but doesn't say anything. She knows that these things just happen sometimes and when it does, it is beyond anyone's control. She just hates that Meredith has to deal with this on top of everything else in her life.

"I'm fine." Meredith says, looking up to see Cristina standing near the door.

Cristina just stares back at her, not saying a word.

"Seriously. I'm fine. Stop... loitering."

"I'm not loitering. I'm watching." Cristina replies defensively.

"You're watching?" Meredith asks. "Cristina Yang, MD from Stanford, is watching me suture a dead guy?" A laugh sneaks past her lips, but it is short-lived. She shakes her head and looks down again. "Go, Cristina. I am fine."

"Fine." Cristina states. She's not going to argue with her right now. With one more hard look in Meredith's direction, she exits.

The room is silent and Meredith sighs.

"Fine." She repeats.


	3. Leaving on a walkaway

The hospital bustles around him. Patients shuffle slowly (some of them walking for the first time since before whatever surgery they had come in for), nurses carry medications from one room to the next, and random visitors float about, but Derek notices none of this, because he is focused on one thing, and one thing only.

Meredith Grey.

From where he stands—leaning against the nurses' desk, his ankles crossed, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other clutching his briefcase— he watches as she helps one of her patients take one step at a time. Meredith's eyes shine with pride as the older woman, who is holding onto her arm for dear life, slides her right foot forward until it is even with the left one. It's good to see Meredith's eyes light up like that, even if it is but for a brief moment. Even if it is only a flicker, or a flash. She has even smiled twice in the last five minutes since he has been watching her from a good distance, and both times Derek's world has shifted. And how can it not when every emotion Meredith's feels, be it sadness or elation, can be felt by him, too? It's easy for these things to happen when she holds his heart in the palms of her tiny hands.

"Stop staring at her like that." Comes a familiar voice from behind him. "Anyone who doesn't know you will think you're a creepy stalker, or something."

Derek chuckles slightly and reluctantly pulls his eyes away from Meredith for a moment. "I'm not a creepy stalker." He replies defensively.

"Okay, well then stop staring at her like she's going to fall apart at any second." Cristina says, looking up from the chart she has just placed on top of the desk to meet Derek's gaze straight on. He sighs and tilts his head.

"Isn't she, though? About to fall apart, I mean?" Derek asks with heavy sadness in his voice. He takes another glance down the hallway, staring forlornly at the woman who has the power to break him and save him with just one look from her deep, aquamarine eyes. She is so strong, yet so fragile all at once.

"She says she's fine." Cristina says half-heartedly. Her voice sounds flat and it is obvious that she doesn't believe her own statement.

"She always says she's _fine_." Derek mutters, not bothering to hide the slight anger and annoyance in his voice. He doesn't want to be angry at her, because he knows it won't do either of them any good. But, he can't help but want to just shake her sometimes and tell her that he _is_ angry, even though he realises at the same time that it is a wasted emotion when it comes to their situation. He's trying to be supportive, but it's hard for him to be supportive when she keeps putting him at a distance.

"I know." Cristina sighs. "Just give her time, Derek. You and I both know she's anything but 'fine', but we can only do so much."

Derek turns to look at her again and she can see the sadness and disappointment in his eyes. "At least she talks to you. At least she lets you in." He says dejectedly. "She gives me frightened looks when I bring her coffee."

Cristina stares at him, hating the look in his eyes, and even more so hating the way her insides are battling against one another. A part of her wants to be true to her hard core personality and give him a sarcastic remark so that _her_ emotions aren't all out on the table for him to see, and the other part-the part that seems to be winning against her better judgment-wants to tell him to hang in there and wait it out.

She nearly hates herself for what she's about to say, because she knows Meredith would be mortified if she let Derek in on this little secret, but she chooses to ignore that aspect, because despite the hard core personality on the surface, she _is_ human underneath it all, and she can't bare to see that pathetic look in Derek's eyes any longer, so she soldiers on anyway.

"Don't give up on her, Derek." She says quietly, rolling her eyes at her own voice. "I know Meredith is hard to get close to, but... she may surprise you. So, just... don't give up, okay?" She wants to clobber herself for giving life to those words, but there is nothing she can do about it now.

A tiny flicker of hope dances in his eyes upon hearing these words and he can't help but smile at Cristina. For her to say something like this to him signifies that there's some inside information that he doesn't know about. Some secret girl talk thing that only happens between Meredith and her person. It doesn't matter what it is, and frankly, he doesn't want any details. But, there is hope to cling to for the first time in a while and he latches on tightly with both hands, unwilling to let it go for even a second.

"Thank you." He says sincerely. His smile is warm and his chest feels a little lighter.

Worried that he might accidentally say something, Cristina straightens up and narrows her eyes at him. "If you say anything... I will hurt you and make it look like an accident," She all but promises. She doesn't need this getting back to Meredith.

"You're secret is safe with me." Derek chuckles at the deathly look in Cristina's eyes, although he knows that it is really not a joke. She really is capable of something like that.

"Don't even mention that we've talked about anything at all. I have a rep to protect around here and I don't need anyone knowing that I've let my guard down. Especially to _you_."

Derek nods his understanding and mimics zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key over his shoulder, all the while smirking at her pinched expression. Annoyed with herself for what has just transpired between them, Cristina feels that she must distance herself as far away from the situation as she possibly can.

"I'm going for a drink now." She mutters, ignoring the chuckle that escapes Derek's lips. "Don't press your luck," She warns without looking in Derek's direction. She doesn't have to elaborate for him to understand that she is talking about his situation with Meredith. Before he can reply, however, she is retreating down the opposite end of the hallway as fast as her feet can carry her.

When she is out of sight, Derek turns and continues leaning against the desk as he watches Meredith advanced toward him with her patient. After a few steps, Meredith looks up and their eyes meet. He doesn't know whether she's still smiling because of her patient's progress, or if she is genuinely smiling directly at him, but it doesn't really matter. All that he knows is that there is a twinkle in her eyes that he hasn't seen in a very long time, and she is smiling.

And that makes him smile, too.


	4. Leaving me in disarray

Derek moves down the hallway with caution. His steps are light and slow. He doesn't want to seem too overly eager, so he tries to keep it casual. As he walks, he continues to smile, holding Meredith's gaze with his. He is delighted to see that she remains smiling at him, her aquamarine orbs still holding that sparkle that makes her look refreshed and happy. He still remains cautious, however, keeping his speed slow and steady as he advances. When he reaches her, they both stop. Meredith's patient, who is still clinging to her, looks up at Derek with a confused expression.

"Derek Shepherd," he introduces, pulling his hand out of his pocket as his eyes shift so that he is staring at the older woman. She continues to look at him strangely, her eyes bouncing back and forth between his smiling face and his outstretched hand.

"Mrs. Nelson, Dr. Shepherd is the head neurologist here at Seattle Grace." Meredith says gently, letting her patient know that he isn't just some strange, well-dressed man cornering them in the hallway. A calm expression falls upon the elderly woman's face and she nods as she shakes Derek's hand.

"Is that right?" She asks with slight amazement as she smiles up at Derek.

"Our goal is to make it past three more doors." Meredith tells him.

He nods his understanding at Meredith, and then turns back to her patient. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Nelson," Derek replies. "It looks as though you're moving pretty fast down this hallway." He gives her a slight wink and he's not sure, but he thinks Mrs. Nelson may be blushing. His eyes slide quickly to Meredith and he can't help but grin when she rolls her eyes at him.

 _Always the charmer_ , Meredith thinks to herself.

"Well," Mrs. Nelson states, "I don't know about my speed, but I do know that I wouldn't even be standing in this hallway if it wasn't for this young lady right here." She says, patting Meredith's hand in the process. "She's a wonderful doctor. And beautiful one, too." She adds, flashing Meredith a warm smile.

"I definitely can't argue with that." Derek says, his eyes connecting with Meredith's as he speaks. The expression on his face shifts from an amused look to a look of awe and amazement, like he's drinking in said beauty right in that moment and he just can't believe that he's seeing it.

Meredith blushes and dips her head down slightly, pretending to check that Mrs. Nelson's feet are still in the right place. He always does this; always finds a way to do or say something that makes her cheeks flush with a mixture of emotions. She tries not to let him know that she is affected by his warm eyes and his captivating smile, but she has a very strong feeling that she is failing miserably.

Derek takes a step closer and leans in a little bit. "I was wondering if you were free tonight." He whispers.

Meredith's posture straightens. "Tonight?"

He nods and smirks as his eyes shift to Mrs. Nelson, who is pretending not to listen, although there is a definite smirk on her lips, too. "Yes, tonight." He says softly. "I thought we could get some dinner." He suggests with a shrug. "It's supposed to be a cloudless night, which doesn't happen much in Seattle. We could go out to the clearing and eat."

Meredith stares up at him, her eyes searching his face. There is so much hope in his eyes that it's hard for her not to feel a burst of excitement pop inside of her chest. Visions of eating a nice, hot meal on a blanket with a glass of wine and stars overhead float in her mind. In her mind, she can see Derek there... sitting right beside her and smiling down at her like he's doing now. She wants nothing more than to end her evening feeling as though she is living a dream.

"Merdith!" A slurred voice from down the hallway sends her crashing down to reality.

Dread feels the void and she looks up at Derek with eyes wide with panic. She notices then that Derek's posture is no longer relaxed. He stands in front of her, ramrod straight and his teeth are clenched. Anger slides over his once smiling expression, and his jaw is rigid.

"Dr. Grey," he says evenly, using all of his strength to control his voice, "why don't you bring Mrs. Nelson back to her room."

"Dr. Shepherd, I..." Meredith pauses and her mouth opens and closes as she tries to find the words to argue with him.

"One of your interns can take over." He states. It is not a question, or a demand. It is an order, and she knows it.

"But, Derek-"

"Meredith." He cuts her off by saying her name softly, his eyes pleading with her to just do what he's telling her. "Please," he says gently, tilting his head to one side. "Take Mrs. Nelson back to her room. It's okay. I'll handle this. Just go."

With one final look into his deep blue eyes, Meredith nods silently and then moves to the other side of Mrs. Nelson. Taking her arm, Meredith leads her back down the hallway from which they came, all the while fielding the questions the Mrs. Nelson is firing at her. As Derek watches them go, he takes a few deep breaths to calm down. He doesn't want to have to yell, not in the middle of the busy hallway. When he is certain that he can control his voice, he pivots on his heels, faces the opposite direction, and comes face to face with the man who has been keeping him away from Meredith.


	5. Chapter 5

Thatcher Grey stands slightly hunched over, staring at Derek, he sways a little on his feet and has to reach his hand out to steady himself against the wall. Derek cringes and feels nearly perverse for not helping the older man better balance himself, but then again, acknowledging that Thatcher has brought this inebriated state upon himself, he starts to feel justified in his unmoving stance.

"Where did... Meredith go?" Thatcher slurs, blinking his bloodshot eyes slowly.

"It's nice to see you, Thatcher," Derek says cheerfully, smiling and ignoring his question. Maybe if he just pretends that Meredith wasn't just in the hallway a few minutes ago, Thatcher will forget also, and then he will leave.

"I'm looking for Meredith."

"How have you been?" Derek tries again to get Thatcher to jump onto a different train of thought.

Thatcher pushes himself off of the wall and stumbles a step or two before righting himself. "Where is Meredith? I need to see... She was just right here..." he trails off as he points his finger to the vacant spot behind Derek where Meredith once stood. A very confused expression clouds his features as he tries to fit all of the pieces together in his brain, but nothing is computing.

Derek takes a cautious step forward. "Meredith is busy right now."

Narrowing his hazy eyes, Thatcher tries to straighten his posture. "But, I came to see Meredith! I need to see her!" He raises his voice and a few nurses look up from behind the desk.

Derek reaches out and takes Thatcher by the elbow. It takes great control for him to remain gentle because he doesn't want to cause a scene in the middle of the hallway. Not only would that be bad for the sick patients nearby, but he knows without a doubt that it will be highly detrimental to Meredith's already fragile state. She doesn't need this type of embarrassment on top of everything else, no matter how badly Derek wants to punch Thatcher Grey so hard right now that is knocks him sober.

"Meredith is with a patient right now, so why don't we have a seat in the lounge." Derek suggests calmly. "We can have a cup of coffee... or two... while we wait for her."

Without waiting for Thatcher to agree, Derek is pulling him toward the lounge area. Once inside, he all but shoves Thatcher into one of the plastic chairs placed at the round table in the center of the room. Sitting himself into the chair across from Thatcher, Derek folds his arms across his chest, glaring at the man hunched over before him. There are a million thoughts swirling in Derek's mind-most of them very angry thoughts-and it is taking all of his willpower not to lunge across the table and strangle the drunk out of his pathetic body. With a clenched jaw, his nostrils flaring, Derek sucks in a deep breath and then leans forward to place his forearms on the edge of the table. He locks his fingers together and holds them securely in place so that he is not tempted to react violently.

"What are you doing here?" He asks cautiously through gritted teeth.

Thatcher doesn't respond. His brow furrows slightly and he shakes his head at his own thoughts.

Derek sighs. "Are you trying to make her life miserable?" He accuses, the bottled up anger slowly leaking into his voice. "Is that why you're here?"

Silence.

Derek sits back, frustrated. He unclenches his fingers and runs them through his hair, then he swipes at his face with his palms. His arms fold themselves in front of him again as he assesses the droopy man across from him. Thatcher sighs and shakes his head again.

"Are you going to answer me, or just sit there?" Derek barks, eyes narrowing.

Looking up at him with watery eyes, Thatcher shrugs and lets out a grunt like it doesn't matter to him whether he speaks or not. He rests his chin in his palm and just stares at Derek, his brow furrowing like he's trying to focus his eyes.

"Answer me!" Derek finally yells as his palm comes down hard against the table. Thatcher's body jerks in surprise and his eyes widen. His mouth opens, but all he can do is stutter in the silence that follows.

"I... uh... I"

"Derek?" A feminine voice cuts through the tension.

Derek's head whips around to the left where Meredith is standing in the now opened doorway. Her eyes are a mixture of confusion and fright as she stares back at him. Derek's angry expression shifts to apologetic as he starts to stand up.

"Meredith, I-"

"Meredith!" Thatcher cuts him off, stumbling up out of his own chair.

Meredith's eyes move to her drunk father who is trying, without much success, to move forward towards her. He trips over his own feet and nearly falls, but at the last minute, he rights himself and walks forward again.

"Thatcher." She sighs, looking at him with pity.

"You weren't... home. I went... but you weren't... home." He slurs. "You were supposed to... Lexie said that you..." He trails off, not able to complete a full thought. "I'm hungry."

Derek's anger boils over again at Tatcher's words. It irritates him to the upmost degree that Thatcher is able to get drunk on his own, yet he can't manage to fix himself a decent meal. And suddenly, that's supposed to be Meredith's fault. Again.

"I had to work late." Meredith tells him. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise to him." Derek tells her, giving her an incredulous look.

"Not now, Derek." She says to him. "Please." She begs.

Derek sighs in defeat as he shakes his head at her. _When is this going to end?_ he asks her with worried eyes. "I guess this means our plans have changed." He says as Meredith's arm links around Thatcher's to support his unstable legs.

"I can't." She whispers, her tiny body dragging Thatcher out into the hallway. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Derek replies wearily, "me, too."

He watches with sorrow as Meredith guides a very drunk Thatcher down the hall, the light in her eyes-any chance he thought he had to get closer to her-fading as they disappear around the corner.


End file.
